


Halfway to Abu Simbel

by Temaris



Category: Primeval
Genre: Angst, F/M, Masturbation, mmom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-29
Updated: 2009-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-29 05:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Temaris/pseuds/Temaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's what he doesn't say that's important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halfway to Abu Simbel

**Author's Note:**

> Set just after the first couple of episodes of season 2. Betad by the ever stylish Alyse

Claudia -- Jenny, he must remember -- is easier. In this timeline even more so than the last -- she's harder edged here; less ponytail and sensible shoes, and more -- he struggles to define it, and is left with just, more fashionable, where fashionable encompasses all he does not understand about women.

Abby is too young, though if sometimes thoughts of bright white-blonde hair and kohl darkened eyes slip into his dreams, waking or sleeping, then he's not going to complain.

He never thinks of Helen.

So it's Jenny he thinks about, late at night, when the whisky has failed, and he's lying sleepless in bed, eyes open in the fathomless dark. He's used to the empty width of the bed now. Used to being able to cocoon himself up in the duvet without a quick hand dragging a corner back for herself. It's been near enough a decade. He should be used to it.

So he's not thinking about her; that's not the reason his dick is tight under his pyjamas. She left him. For eight long years, and he cups his dick as though to reassure himself that *this* hasn't been eight years, for those interminable, painful, inexplicable years he'd missed her, raged at her, copped off to her picture, the sound of her voice in his head, the warmth of her body, the fullness of her glorious breasts and the flexible muscularity of her thighs. She left him.

So it's Jenny he's thinking of now, as his hand slides up and down, skin slipping easily over skin. It's Jenny he wants to kiss; not someone who cheated and lied and left.

And it's Jenny whose name he gasps out when he's done. And if sometimes, she's wearing a leather bodice, or her dark hair is shorter than his own, well. A man has to dream.

Right?

 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> First posted at [MMOM](http://mmom.livejournal.com/283954.html)


End file.
